Forgiveness
by Ashley A
Summary: Set at the end of ATS season two. Angel reacts to Buffy's death.


Authors note:  takes place post ATS season two.

Get out the hankies!

I am a feedback whore!  Please give it to me!

Disclaimer:  I don't own nothin', and I have no money so don't sue.  All lines from the episode "Angel" are written by the lovely David Greenwalt.

I execute a perfect somersault, twisting my body in ways that no human could even come close to emulating.  Leap, twist, tuck, roll and…"whoof!"  I land smack on my back.  All the air comes out of my chest in a rush.  You wouldn't think that it would bother me when this happens, but it does.  Just because I don't breathe doesn't mean it's comfortable to have a sledgehammer smashed into your lungs.

"Uh, Angel?  Is that how it's supposed to look?"

I lay on my back, staring up at the stars through the high trees in my garden.

"No, Fred," I answer.  

"Well, that was…interesting.  Maybe you could show me again?"  She's trying to be polite, but I know she's confused.  I just don't have the patience to respond.

"Maybe later, okay?  I'll see you inside shortly."

"okay.  I…um…are _you _okay?" she crouches over me, a look of concern on her face.  

"I'm FINE," I say with a lot more force than I meant to.  Her face crumples, and I realize that I've scared her, which is not a thing I want to do.  She's fragile enough as it is, and considering this is the first time she's spent out of her room since arriving here, I really should go easy on her.

"Look, Fred, I'm really okay.  Go on inside and see to the others," I say gently, finally rolling on my side to be able to see her better.  I try to smile reassuringly at her, but I can tell by her reaction that it's not working.

"Okay, Angel.  You holler if you need anything."  She stands back up, and turns and heads up the short staircase that leads back into the hotel.

Ugh.  I lay back down, not wanting to take the energy to even force myself to be vertical.  I close my eyes, scrub a hand over my face.  _I have never fallen doing any kind of flip before.  What the hell happened?_

I know what the hell happened, but I'm not going to admit it.  See, if I admit it then the actual event has to be true.  And it can't be.  I'll just ignore it and it's bound to be wrong.  Any minute now Willow will bound back through the Hyperion doors and announce, "Sorry, guys, I didn't mean to scare you, but I was just kiddin'.  Buffy's just fine, she's actually outside waiting for you, Angel, and by the way here's two tickets to Hawaii, you guys have a nice vacation!"

Huhn.  Yeah.  And maybe I'll wake up and all this L.A. crap will have been a very strange version of the twillight zone.

I decide that laying flat on my back in the garden is not the most dignified position to be in and jerk myself off the ground, shambling over to the nearby bench.  _Damn, did I dislocate my shoulder?_

I roll it a few times to check, but it seems to be fine.  Which is more than I can say for me.

Why didn't they call?  Why didn't she tell me what was going on before it was too late?  Why?  Why?  Why?  It echoes in my head like a refrain.

Why?  Why not?  It's not like we'd kept in touch.  Not like I thought about her, or tried calling, or…okay, admit it.  I did…I do think about her.  At some point in every day, someone would say something, or laugh a certain way, and her face would suddenly appear in my mind.  And Cordelia, wearing that vanilla perfume yesterday…I shouldn't have yelled at her for wearing it.  Just out of all people, she should know better.

The moon shines brightly on me, and I hate it.  I hate it for being a constant in a world that she's not in anymore.  I hate it for the reminders of a time that were still innocent, still full of wonder, still so beautiful because she and I were alive in it together.  Even just walking, not saying a word, we were one.  Patrolling, fighting, living, loving.  We could touch one another's hands and say a volume without opening our mouths.

Another time flashes unbidden through my head, the night I kissed her for the first time by the light of the moon.  _I did a lot of thinking today.  I can't really be around you…because when I am, all I can think about is how badly I want to kiss you-  I'm older than you and this can't ever…I better go._

I should have gone then.  Shouldn't have even looked back at her.  But that whole speech about me reading her diary, how "hunk" could mean a lot of things, how amazing it was she was affected by me too, there was no way I could have walked away.  Gods, I should have.

    I didn't lie to her when I told her in 240 years I loved exactly one person.  She changed me.  Made me into the man I am now.  No one can ever take that away from me.  Oh, they've tried, but something, or more to the point, her presence and the belief in her strength and love have always helped me prevail. Darla tried.  Lindsey and those bastards at Wolfram and Hart tried.  Jesus, Faith too.  I tried myself this year.  Dispair is a powerful drug.  My friends have just now gotten to the point where they trust me again.  And I won't, I can't dishonor the memory of Buffy by going back to that place.

    Oh.  I said her name.  

    I really thought that if I didn't, the pain would be less.  It's not.

    I stand, and walk back into the hotel lobby.

    "Angel!  How's your back?  Fred told us you fell…" Wesley babbles as I enter the large, echoey room.

    "I'm fine.  Goodnight."  I continue walking, not meeting any of their eyes, which are furiously staring at my back as I head up the long staircase to my suite.

    The moon again.  It blinds me as I toss and turn in the bed, which I can normally black out in very easily.  This hotel is a boon, a gift that I didn't expect to receive.  Cavernous, and plenty of places to hide.  Especially when one has very nosey and overzealous employees… well, co-workers really.

    With a grunt of annoyance, I sit up in my boxers and tank top and glare at the offending orb glowing softly down through the window, which is open to let in the soft night breeze.  Cordelia thinks the place is too stuffy, and makes a habit of opening the windows.  I think she actually just wants to check up on me.  It's kind of cute in a not so cute way.

    I pad over to the window seat and plop down on it.  Rest my chin in my in my hand, and settle in for a nice night's brooding.  I damn well deserve it.

    What can I do?  Should I go to Sunnydale?  Have they already had the funeral? some morbid voice whispers in my ear.  Maybe you should send flowers.  Well, that tears it.  I squeeze my eyes shut as hard as I can to wipe this train of thought from my too overworked brain. 

    Jesus!  How can she be gone?  The last time I saw her she was still reeling from the death of her mother.  And not doing a very good job of it, either.  I should have stayed longer.  I could have dealt with her neediness.  I should have done something, anything to help her.  God, after all she's done for me, and I didn't even stay one night.  I let the others do what should have been my job to do.  I let Spike comfort her.  Ah, Spike!  How could I not have seen that coming?  He always did have some jealousy towards me…

    Or maybe that's just it.  I left her.  I did it.  It was my decision.  Who am I to judge who she chose to comfort her in my absence? 

 __

_    I want my life to be with you._

_    I don't._

    The tears finally start to come.  They pour down my face in a scalding wave that seems to never end.  The damn Moon makes them sparkle as they roll off my chin, soaking through my shirt.

    Oh.  My.  God.

    I knew when I left that we couldn't have a future together.  She needed a man who could take her into the light.  It wasn't fair to keep her youth and vitalitly smooshed down just because of my obsessive desire to be with her.  Doesn't matter if she loved me.  We weren't right…but then why does it feel like I'm the one who's dying?

    "God!" I gasp, and I can't do anything anymore except crumple to the floor, sliding off the window seat so the light of the Moon can't reach me, can't purify me or forgive me for not being there when she needed me the most.

    "Please forgive me, please.  I loved you so much, I love you.  I won't ever stop."

    I make this vow to her, my lost slayer.  I will go on, if only for her, and to honor her actions and the memory of her too short life.

I will go on.  I have to.  There is no other choice.  Is there?  I look to the shining beacon in the sky, as if it might answer me.  It only winks back, mocking me, silent still.  

Silent forever.


End file.
